


Games People Play (in the middle of the night)

by MidniteMarauder



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: 'injudicious' fingering, Angst, Community: reversathon, Established Relationship, M/M, MWPP Pre-Azkaban, Mild D/s, Rimming, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-17
Updated: 2006-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-02 23:02:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidniteMarauder/pseuds/MidniteMarauder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In July, 1980, the Wizarding world is awash in turmoil, and trust is a fleeting commodity. Finding himself caught up in events he can't control, Sirius discovers that all is not fair in love and war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games People Play (in the middle of the night)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red_squared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_squared/gifts).



> Written for the 2006 Reversathon fest for the lovely red_squared who requested: Sirius/Remus, with established, mild D/s relationship, (top!Remus). "Remus wants to try a new kink/toy. Sirius freaks out".
> 
> Many thanks to my betas inksheddings, archon_mentha, and xingou for their input and invaluable assistance. Title nicked from "Games People Play" by The Alan Parsons Project.

**July, 1980**

"What a shite way to spend a Friday night. Crouching in a patch of muddy weeds in a Muggle garden. Really, you'd think they'd take proper care of it. Fuck, I think I'm getting a rash."

"Shhh!" Remus admonished, peering around the side of the shed they were sheltering behind. "Could be worse. At least we're not stuck in that horribly foul alley in Birmingham again."

"Sussex, Birmingham – it's all shite when it means skulking about in the middle of the night. Especially when I'd rather be doing anything else," Sirius murmured, stretching his neck with an audible crack. "Like sleeping, or getting pissed, or shagging."

"This coming from the man who spent seven years skulking about Hogwarts in the middle of the night for kicks," Remus whispered, still watching the house.

"Yes, well, it was dry there."

"Right. Dry, sunny Scotland."

"And cooler. Sodding heat wave. Less itchy, too." Sirius reached around awkwardly to try to scratch between his shoulder blades. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back, mingling with the wet of his rain and mist-soaked t-shirt. It should have felt cool, but the heavy air was stifling and it pressed in on him, making him irritable. The thought of Remus dressed in long robes beside him made him perspire even more, and he scowled, scratching ineffectively.

"Nostalgia," Remus said, shaking his head. "Forgot about the great swarming clouds of insects, have you? Just change if you're so uncomfortable."

"Wet weedy dog is just as uncomfortable as wet weedy wizard. Probably get fleas. And it's too hot for all that fur." He looked at his watch. "Bugger it! I don't think anyone's coming tonight."

Remus sighed and sank down onto his knees, brushing his damp sweaty hair back from his forehead. "We still have to stay for a couple more hours yet," he said, squinting at his own watch. "You're right about the weather though. Too hot and damp by half, even for July. I can barely see the back door in all of this mist."

"We should move closer," Sirius suggested, yearning to move from their cramped, itchy confines and stretch his legs a bit.

"And what? Hide behind the washing line?" Remus asked. "Besides, we'll hear them Apparate. Well, we should do."

Sirius grunted and settled back down, ripping out the irritating patch of tall plants at his back and tossing them aside. He wiped his muddy hands on his thighs and frowned. No help for it; his jeans would definitely need washing now.

He felt completely useless sitting here, squatting in the drizzle. _Guard duty, my arse,_ he thought irritably. _Useless waste of time. We should be out doing… well, doing _something.

Rationally, he knew what they were doing wasn't useless at all. In the week since the students had returned home from Hogwarts for summer holidays, the families of eight Muggleborn students had been attacked and murdered. The number of wizard disappearances – muggleborn, half-blood and pureblood alike – had risen sharply in the past several weeks. Voldemort and his Death Eater toadies were getting stronger and bolder. What had previously been the occasional random threat or attack had now taken on substance and the consequences were escalating.

With so much focus needed on their own frightened community, there were precious few resources to be spared on Muggle casualties of war. The Ministry had decided that those fatalities were best left for the Muggle authorities to manage amongst themselves. Obliviators were sent only to sort out Muggle sightings of wizarding activity, predominantly the Dark Mark, its sickly iridescent green silhouette lingering in the sky for hours, even days in the aftermath, homage to the inherent frailty of human life and the malevolence of those who would take it so casually.

Of course, Dumbledore and Moody were of a different mind from the Ministry in the matter of the protection of Muggle families; which was why he was presently wet, sweaty, itchy, irritable, and not, to his utter dismay, surrounded by cooling charms and being shagged within an inch of his life.

The small cottage house they were guarding in the tiny village of Mark Cross was the home of two Muggleborn students. Remus had told him the elder was a soon-to-be sixth year Gryffindor, his younger sister a fourth year Ravenclaw. Remus was like that – always so detail oriented, and as former Prefect, he likely remembered the boy from their own years at school. Sirius himself had a vague recollection, but didn't care about the specifics; he knew that the children and their families were worth protecting regardless.

His problem was that the patience and tedious inactivity required for this sort of endeavour were not his strongest qualities and never really had been. Unless, of course, the activity involved plotting mischief and causing mayhem of his own. But even those days were long behind him, or seemed to be. He had never been 'innocent', and no one would have dared accuse him of such, but he missed the simplicity of how things used to be, the carefree, faux innocence and ignorance of adolescence.

He idly wondered how Peter and Frank, and James and Emmeline were faring and was tempted to take the small mirror from his pocket to see, but was brought out of his musings by a sharp jab from Remus.

"What?"

"Did you hear that?" Remus asked peering intently into the gloom.

"Huh?"

"I thought I heard– Oi! There's a light inside! Two!" he exclaimed, breaking into a run and nearly skidding on the wet grass. "Damn! They must have gone in through the front door! Sirius!"

"On it!" Sirius replied, not bothering to watch while his Patronus galloped off and disappeared behind him. He quickly followed Remus. The back door burst open with a loud bang and the two rushed inside as a high-pitched scream sounded from upstairs.

**

"Nicely done, lads," Alastor Moody said, taking the two of them aside and leading them out into the hallway, away from the grave MLE officials talking quietly beside the splintered and tattered remains of the furniture in the master bedroom. Sirius spared a last glance around the room; his gaze flickered between the sheet-covered body in the corner, the young girl clutching at her mother with tears streaming down their faces, and the boy standing dry-eyed beside them, face white with shock.

"Shame about the father," Moody continued. "We'll get them sorted, send them off to stay with family. Elkins is in custody," he said, glancing at his watch. "Likely being interrogated right now. Knew him, did you?"

Remus nodded. "Ravenclaw, two years ahead of us."

"Fair Beater, he was," Sirius said, shaking his head, disgusted, and swiping at a drip of blood on his cheek. "A half-blood, too."

"Like me," Remus mumbled.

Sirius glanced up at him and frowned, turning to Moody. "There were three others. The younger Lestrange – Rabastan, the nasty git – and two we didn't see well enough to recognize. Bastards got away."

"We'll find them. Eventually," Moody muttered. "Best you two get on home. Might want to see a healer first. That slash looks ugly," he said, pointing his chin at Sirius. "Leave you with a nice scar if you're lucky, and you're looking a bit scorched yourself, Lupin."

"Nothing new there," Sirius said. "We'll manage. 'Night Alastor. Ready Remus?"

Remus nodded, and they Apparated away with a crack.

**

Sirius dropped his wand onto the coffee table and collapsed onto the couch, covering his eyes with his hand for a moment and then briskly scrubbing his fingers through his hair.

"Hell of a night. Could sleep for a week. Any firewhisky left?"

"Don't think so. You're getting the furniture wet, and you're still bleeding. Let me have a look at that," Remus said, kneeling in front of him and grasping his chin in his hand. He held his wand next to the wound and whispered softly.

Sirius closed his eyes and felt a tingle on his cheek. He opened them to find Remus grinning and very close, nearly nose to nose, fingers still holding his chin.

"There. That should do it. No scarring either. Though I must say," Remus said, lowering his voice, "it would have made you look rather dashing and rugged. Quite sexy, really." Remus leaned in and kissed him roughly, nipping at his lower lip, a glint of something almost feral in his eyes when he pulled back, and Sirius swallowed. Perhaps he wasn't so tired after all.

"All right, up you go," Remus said, getting to his feet and pulling Sirius up after him. He pulled him in close and gently bit Sirius' ear, licking a path around the edge.

"We could both do with a wash," he whispered. "You're not nearly wet enough for my liking."

"You mean I'm not naked enough," Sirius said slyly, grinding himself against Remus' hip, nuzzling and licking at his exposed neck. "Really, Moony, I'm plenty wet. Want me to show you?"

"Mmmm," Remus replied, taking a step back and pulling off Sirius' t-shirt. He ran his finger over a long red scorch mark on Sirius' belly and pressed. "Ooooh. Nice."

Sirius gasped and stepped back.

"Bit sore?"

Sirius nodded absently. "It'll keep. Come here." He stepped close again, reaching out and tugging at Remus' robes.

"Uh-uh," Remus said, shaking his head while batting Sirius' hands away. "Jeans. Off. Start the water. I'll be right behind you," he added, a wicked smile on his face as he ducked into the bedroom.

Sirius sighed and peeled off his damp, muddy jeans, falling back down onto the couch when they got stuck halfway down his legs. Dropping them in a heap on the floor, he padded into the bath and turned on the tap, stepping into the tub and closing his eyes as the warm water pelted his clammy skin. It stung where the water beat against the scratches on his belly and thigh, but not enough for him to move away.

He reached for the soap and heard the creak of the door hinges. A moment later Remus was behind him, his body pressed close, cock already hard against his arse, arms reaching around to take the soap from his hands.

"Let me," Remus murmured, turning Sirius to face him.

Sirius closed his eyes, sighing blissfully as the water beat a steady rhythm against his back while Remus' hands moved over his arms, chest, belly, and hips, his fingers and palms soothing and gentle. He held his breath momentarily, but Remus' fingers barely skimmed over the painful scorch mark, and he exhaled slowly, smiling when Remus' hands moved even lower.

Remus took a bit more time there, not that he was complaining. It felt far too good, the long, deft fingers stroking gently, cupping his bollocks, thumbs circling at the crease between groin and thigh. Sirius felt the briefest touch of lips to the tip of his cock before the hands moved further down to his thighs and calves.

"Turn around," Remus whispered, straightening up, his hands on Sirius' shoulders nudging him.

He opened his eyes and leaned his head forward, capturing Remus' mouth for a brief kiss – just the barest hint of tongue against his lips – before turning to face the wall, sluicing the soap from his body. Remus was already soaping his back, his fingers firm, massaging the aching muscles, his hands going lower, thumbs now digging blissfully into Sirius' lower back while his fingers pressed into his hips and down to his arse.

"Feels good, Moony. Ta," he mumbled, eyes closed again, bowing his head into the spray and letting the water pound against his skull. He straightened up after a moment, wiping the water from his eyes, and turned his head to look back over his shoulder.

"Your turn, now" he said with a hint of regret; Remus' hands felt wonderful on his skin and he was loath to move despite the urge to drag Remus off to their bed, wondering exactly what Remus had 'prepared' for them for tonight.

"In a bit," Remus replied, and Sirius could almost hear a smile in his voice. "Not finished with you just yet."

Remus leaned forward to put the soap back in the dish and kissed Sirius' cheek before stepping back and returning to his ministrations, moving his thumbs lower down and running them between his arse cheeks, rubbing, massaging. Remus nudged him forward so the shower spray ran over his back, and he braced his hands against the wall, watching his cock, hard and bobbing slightly while the soapy water spiralled down the drain below.

"Close your eyes," Remus said from behind him, and he complied. Remus pulled him back from the wall so that the water was beating down against his chest once more, and raised his arms above his head. There was the briefest of whispers and suddenly his wrists were tightly bound to the shower nozzle.

"Sly bastard," Sirius said, grinning.

Remus didn't reply. Sirius heard another whisper followed by a faint clattering on the tile floor.

Remus moved behind him once again and trailed kisses down his spine, licking at his wet skin. "You look so fucking beautiful like this," he murmured between kisses. "So wet. Taste so good."

Sirius moaned, knowing exactly what was coming next as Remus' hands once again moved between his arse cheeks, and he spread his legs as far as he could within the confines of the tub. The first touch of Remus' tongue made his cock literally jump and he pressed his palms together, leaning his head on his arm and sucking in a breath.

"Fuck yeah, Moony."

Remus, on his knees behind him, replied with a hum, spreading him open further. He closed his eyes. Remus was so fucking good at this, and what made it even better was that he truly loved doing it. He knew every inch of Sirius' body, knew exactly how to touch him or lick him just – "Oh! Right– oh, fuck! There! Yeah. Oh, God!"

His knees felt as fluid as the water, and he pushed back, thrusting against Remus' face, feeling his tongue as it dipped inside him, shallow at first, then deeper. The water was almost needle-sharp against his chest, his nipples growing more sensitive. He squirmed, his hands useless, unable to find much leverage.

Remus' hand clasped around his left ankle and gently tugged upward. He shifted his weight to keep his balance, leaning heavily on the shower nozzle, and lifted his leg, knee bent, foot resting comfortably on the flat side of the tub allowing Remus better access. Remus nearly growled in approval, pressing his tongue deeper inside, and Sirius shivered. The drumming of the water and the loud thrumming of his blood in his ears did nothing to mask the slick sucking humming noises coming from behind him, and he groaned, pressing his face harder against his bicep. He felt completely open and exposed and desperately in need of release.

"Please," he begged. "Fuck – please. Touch me Moony. Need it. Need to come."

If Remus heard, he gave no answer.

"Moony," he moaned. Remus only spread him wider and pressed his fingers into Sirius' hips, unrelenting.

"Fuck!" His cock ached to be touched. He wriggled, trying to hop backwards in an effort to direct the spray of water a little lower. He groaned when Remus pulled back and cried out as Remus slapped him sharply across his arse.

"Hush! Be still," Remus ordered. "Not finished with you."

He whimpered as Remus returned to his previous activities, his fingers digging in more forcibly, his tongue fucking him relentlessly.

"C'mon Remus. Oh God, you bastard. Fuck. Touch my cock, oh, please touch it, need to come, need to, need to– to…" He was babbling now, nearly sobbing, his arms tugging unconsciously against their bindings, his legs shaking. "Need to touch, let me touch, _please_ Moony, let–"

Another slap landed across his bottom and he cried out again, but the sound was muffled as a gag magically materialized across his mouth, and suddenly Remus was standing behind him, tugging on the leather strap.

"You're a very bad boy, Sirius," he whispered, his voice husky. "I told you I wasn't finished. I _was_ going to fuck you."

Sirius could feel Remus' cock rubbing against his arse, and he moaned.

"Yes, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Fuck you so hard, let you ride my cock," he purred. "Just the way you love it."

Sirius whimpered.

"But now…"

Sirius' hands were suddenly free and he was spun around so quickly, he nearly lost his balance. Remus steadied him and leaned over to turn off the tap. He rubbed his wrists, red where the bindings had dug into his skin in his struggles.

"On your knees," Remus ordered, pushing him down by his shoulders, and he fell to his knees, noticing with belated gratitude that Remus had placed a cushioning charm on the bottom of the tub.

Sirius watched Remus' face. He knew better than to touch himself now, though he was still achingly hard. He could feel Remus dragging his wand slowly over the gag, across his cheek and over his mouth. His eyes were dark, thoughtful, almost angry. He saw Remus flick his wrist, and the gag vanished.

He licked his lips.

Remus wasted no time. He tossed his wand aside, grabbed Sirius by his hair and plunged his cock into his mouth.

Sirius reached up to grasp Remus by his hips and closed his eyes.

"That's it, Sirius," Remus said, pulling back and thrusting shallowly. "A little more, just like that. I told you I was going to fuck you, fuck that pretty mouth of yours."

Sirius swallowed, relaxing his throat as Remus sped up his pace, thrusting deeper. He clenched his fingers, squeezing Remus' arse.

"Take it all. I know you can. Suck me. Yes, that's it, that's, oh yes, so good, so good."

Sirius swallowed again, listening to Remus' words becoming less coherent, and slid a finger inside him. He knew Remus was close, and was desperate to bring him off. His own cock was still so hard it was almost painful, and he fingered him roughly, tears of frustration prickling his eyes.

Remus was also thrusting roughly, his cock smooth and warm against Sirius' lips and tongue, slamming relentlessly against the back of his throat. His words were no more than a drawn out moan now, and Sirius clamped his lips tighter around Remus' cock, giving up any pretence of doing more than letting Remus simply fuck his mouth.

He pushed his finger in as far as he could, twisted it and hummed, and Remus was coming, gasping with a final thrust. Sirius swallowed again, mercifully without choking as Remus' movements slowed. The back of his throat was sore, but he continued to gently rub the flat of his tongue back and forth against the underside of Remus' cock.

Remus pulled out slowly and Sirius sank down on his heels, hands on his thighs, looking pleadingly up at Remus.

"Please, Moony," he rasped.

Remus knelt down in front of him and kissed him, tongue plunging where his cock had been only moments before. Sirius felt him take his hand and wrap it around his cock, and he nearly sobbed with relief. He stroked himself once, twice, and he was coming, his cries muffled into Remus' mouth.

Lying in bed a short time later, hair still damp against his pillow, he listened to Remus' steady breathing beside him. He was exhausted and sore, happily so, but his mind refused to cooperate, and his thoughts had inexplicably turned to the events earlier that evening - or earlier that morning; they had arrive home just before dawn, and sun had risen while they had been… otherwise occupied.

He turned his head to the side with some effort, and in the muted light filtering through the tatty curtains, Remus' sheet-clad body became a shrouded body with empty, sightless eyes. Remus' eyes were a deep brown, but the eyes that he saw were a cool grey, far too similar to his own. He shuddered and closed his eyes, a frown on his face as he drifted into that grey space between waking and sleep, grey and strewn with the shadows of the dead.

  
*~*

  
Sirius Apparated into the alley beside Quality Quidditch supplies and waited for James who had been taking his time in saying goodbye to a very pregnant Lily. He didn't blame him for his concerns. None of Great Britain was safe these days.

Wormtail had arrived to keep her company while the two of them went out, 'following up on a hunch', as James referred to it. 'Another one of James' dim-witted notions but of course I'll go along because I always do' was how Sirius interpreted it.

And once again he was spending a Friday evening skulking about instead of down at the pub, though these days, very few wizards were brave enough to venture out at night, and even visiting a Muggle pub in London was no guarantee of safety. With the rash of seemingly-unrelated murders and disturbances plastered all over their newspapers and the telly, even the Muggles were worried. And rightfully so.

He leaned up against the wall and ran his fingers over the smooth wood of his wand, frowning.

At twenty years of age, life was supposed to consist of lazing about a cramped and cluttered flat listening to the Quidditch on the wireless, drinking too much, eating takeaway because you can't be arsed to learn how to cook, late nights at the pub or Muggle clubs (making it rain indoors in order to clear some space on the dance floor being completely optional) and sleeping next to a warm willing body every night. Well, one particular body, in his case. And, of course, shagging said warm and very willing body at every waking opportunity.

Twenty was not supposed to be spent fighting a war, awash in a wave of death and despair, estranged from and fighting against your blood family and secretly mourning the demise of your idiot baby brother. Nor should there be so many nights spent sleeping alone because your boyfriend is away for days on yet another one of Dumbledore's 'secret' assignments, wand under your pillow with protection charms surrounding your flat, blank, sightless eyes haunting your dreams and nightmares, and constantly fearing for the safety of your loved ones.

There was still plenty of takeaway and when Remus was home, there was much shagging to be had, but even that had taken on a different dynamic of late.

He jumped as James appeared next to him with a loud crack.

"Bloody hell, Prongs. Can't you do anything quietly?"

"What'd I do?" James whispered, shaking out his invisibility cloak and swirling it around his shoulders so that only his head was visible, floating in mid-air in the dim alley.

"Never mind. Lily and Pete okay then?"

"Seem to be. I hate leaving her alone, especially with the baby coming any day. She's been… Well, you saw her last night. Not herself lately. Honestly, I'll never understand women," he said, shaking his head. "Especially pregnant women. I gave her my mirror in case anything happens. You brought yours along like I said, yeah?"

"Got it right here," Sirius replied, pulling it from his pocket and holding it out to James. A disembodied hand reached out to take it and disappeared. "Hope she knows not to yell."

James rolled his eyes and pulled the cloak over his head. "She's tetchy all right, but she's not _that_ stupid. C'mon. Change and let's go."

Sirius closed his eyes, concentrating, and felt the familiar shift. He opened his eyes, much lower to the ground now, his vision less precise, but his sense of smell vastly improved, and trotted off after James into Diagon Alley proper.

He paused at the entrance to Knockturn Alley, spying a figure in a dark hooded robe darting out from one of the shops. There were several others walking down the narrow dingy street, and he put his nose the ground, sniffing, doing his best to be more dog than man. It was ironic, he thought, how business in Knockturn was still thriving, while Diagon Alley, usually wall-to-wall with people, was little more than a ghost town, many of the popular shops boarded up and closed down, the shopkeepers fled. Just as well, since their potential customers were nearly non-existent.

He continued down the street, pausing as he came upon the Tooth 'n Claw, the run down pub apparently still managing a decent business judging by sounds of clinking glass and the low murmur of voices coming from within, and slunk into the alley alongside.

"Oi," came a loud whisper from the vicinity of a large rubbish bin situated next to a grubby window. "Down here."

He padded down the alley, climbing over some boxes and crates on the ground until he was under the window. Jumping up on his hind legs, he peered cautiously into the window and dropped back down, shifting back.

"Right," he whispered. "Fat lot of good this does. I doubt this thing has been washed any time this century. Everyone's in dark hooded robes – what is that anyhow? S'bloody sweltering out! – and I can't hear a bloody thing.

"Shhh!"

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius whispered, waving his hand absently.

"I'm going inside," said James' disembodied voice. "You stay here and keep watch. And change back. You look too conspicuous out here dressed all Muggle like that."

"Great. And I'll just nose through the rubbish then? Why do _you_ get to go in?"

"My idea, and my cloak," James replied.

Sirius snorted. "Smug bastard. Like nobody's gonna notice the door opening and no one's– Ouch! Stop that!"

"No more than you deserve," James replied, slipping his hand back under the cloak. "Besides, you're much better suited for rubbish. Just how conspicuous would a bloody great stag be mucking about beside a pub in the middle of London?"

"You might get lucky and some old hag'll try to take you home, impressed by your magnificent rack. Useful potion ingredient, you know."

"Ha ha. Speaking of which, look – that old hag in there looks to be leaving. Least I think it's a hag. Be right back. Keep quiet while you poke about."

Sirius listened to his running footsteps echoing on the cobblestones and smirked when he heard James stumble and mutter a curse. "Smooth, Prongsy."

He peered into the grimy window again, this time with human eyes and watched a dark squat shape waddling towards the front exit. "Right. Tooth 'n Claw. Should be called the Hagging Maggot or something even viler," he mumbled to himself.

Sighing, he sunk down onto his haunches, leaning against the wall of the pub, mindful of the filth on the ground and the stench around him. Bloody Prongs and his brilliant ideas. He supposed he should be watching through the window in case James wasn't as stealthy as he used to be. There was a difference between sneaking about empty school corridors as a teenager, and pushing through a fairly crowded pub of seedy, unsavoury customers as an adult.

He made to rise when he heard a loud creak of hinges. The back door on the other side of the rubbish bin opened, and a lone figure in a dark hooded robe exited. Temporarily hidden by the bin, he dropped to all fours, cringing at the filth and changed soundlessly.

Hidden more fully by the boxes and crates now, he ducked down, careful not to make a sound, and peered through a broken slat. The figure took a few steps towards him and stopped, peering upwards as the moon, nearly full, suddenly emerged from behind a cloud.

The hood dropped from his head, and Sirius felt his breath catch as Remus stood no more than five feet in front of him, gazing mournfully up at the moon. Remus sighed and shook his head, and without looking back down, Apparated away with a muted crack, leaving Sirius alone in the alley.

**

"Padfoot!" James called out in a loud stage whisper, kicking the crate and causing Sirius to jump back with a yelp. "Some guard dog you turned out to be. Called you three times. C'mon, let's get out of here. Back to Diagon."

Sirius hopped over the crates and yelped again when he caught his back leg on another broken slat.

"Shhh!" James admonished. "Merlin, what is with you? Meet me back in the alley by Quality Quidditch," he said and then he was gone.

Sirius had no idea how long James had been inside the pub and couldn't presently check his watch to see. Time had stopped for him the moment Remus' hood had fallen back, and even now it had yet to restart properly. His mind was elsewhere as he slowly made his way to the street, and he nearly collided with another hooded wizard as he exited the alley.

"Tcha!" the man said, kicking out at him and missing as Sirius jumped back. "Dumb dog."

Sirius bared his teeth and growled fiercely. The man made to kick at him again, and Sirius lunged, nipping at the man's leg beneath his cloak before running across the narrow street, and dodging a quickly thrown hex. He growled again and ran up the cobblestones toward Diagon Alley. He was panting when he reached the small but cleaner alley beside the Quidditch shop where James was waiting, visible now and tucking away his cloak.

"There you are! Well, that was fairly useless. Nasty lot in there, too. I thought I recognized McNair and Lestrange – the ugly git who's married to your cousin, not the one you ran into a couple of weeks ago – but when I tried to get close, I couldn't hear a blasted thing. Too noisy and they were using that muffling spell besides. I didn't dare counter it. Should have left you home and brought Wormtail. _You_ were useless. Least _he_ would have been helpful. Though I don't suppose he'd fancy crawling around on the floor in that place. Anyway, here," he said, taking the mirror from his pocket. "I should get home."

Sirius blinked, transformed back and grabbed James by his wrist. "Wait. Not yet."

"What is _wrong_ with you? You were completely oblivious back there in the alley. I've now insulted you twice, and you haven't said a bloody word about it."

"Nothing's wrong. Just thinking s'all."

"Thinking?" James shook his head. "Hell of a time for that. What about? All the shagging you'll get up to when Remus gets back?"

Sirius jerked his head up sharply, his stomach knotting.

"You _were_ thinking about Remus! I knew it. A few days alone and little Paddy feels neglected, eh? If you ask nicely and bring her fresh strawberries and custard, I'm sure Lily would be happy to charm one of those nasty pluggy things of yours for you."

"Already charmed," Sirius said, smirking.

James rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Bloody sex fiends the both of you. Besides, where's your sense of brotherly support? I'm the one feeling neglected here. Lily and I haven't been able to shag in over a month because of the baby, and with her temper, I don't dare ask her… well, you know."

Sirius snorted. "And whose fault is that? You know, if you're that hard up, Jamie," he added, tossing his head back and winking.

"Right. There are very few places I'm willing to stick my cock these days and, sorry Padfoot, but your shameless arse isn't one of them."

"Your loss, mate," he replied, grinning.

"Yes, well, one I'm happy to live with all the same, thanks."

"You forget. I've seen you wank. You're rubbish. Can always loan you one of our 'nasty pluggy things' if you're that desperate. But since you won't be having any from her or me tonight, or any time soon for that matter, you can come have a drink with me."

"Getting me pissed is _not_ going to work." James grumbled.

"Might be worth the effort though, just to see you squirm."

"Bastard. Seriously Padfoot – and don't even say it," he interrupted himself, pointing his finger at Sirius. "Stupid puns. Really though, I really don't like leaving her alone for long. You could come back to mine. Should have a bottle of something around the flat, if you haven't already drunk it, that is."

"M'not in the mood for company."

"Then what am I?"

"Not what I consider company. Come on. Just one. Look," he said, sighing. "I'm just not ready to go home yet, all right?"

James looked up sharply at that, but Sirius held his face impassive.

"Fine. Just one. And you're buying."

They walked briskly down the empty street towards the Leaky Cauldron in silence, purposely avoiding glancing at the darkened shops as they passed. Neither wanted to see who else had boarded up their windows this week and fled; it was too depressing to contemplate. At least they knew Tom would be at the Leaky, having refused to close despite the absence of most of his regular – or really any – clientele.

Just as Sirius had expected, the normally bustling pub was nearly empty but for two elderly wizards sat on opposite ends of the bar. They glanced over as the two young men entered and turned quickly away, noses buried in their respective goblets.

Sirius waved to Tom. "Firewhisky," he said, as they made their way to a booth in a dark corner and sat down. Tom appeared a moment later with two tumblers filled nearly to the brim with deep amber liquid.

"Ta, Tom. You're a mate."

"You two lads shouldn't be out. S'not safe," Tom said, his voice mildly scolding.

"You're still here and open for business," Sirius pointed out, taking a large sip from his glass and shuddering as the burn of the liquid trickled down his throat.

"Been 'ere seventy years, I have. Didn't close shop during the last two Dark Wars, 'n I'm too old to tuck tail now."

"Too stubborn, more like," James said, flashing a quick smile. "We'll be all right. Straight home after this. Promise."

"There's a lad," Tom said and leaned closer, lowering his voice. "And how's the missus, then?"

"She's just fine. Well, frustrated and impatient, of course," James said, keeping his voice low as well. "Nothing yet, but soon. I hope. We'll try to send word, and I'll be sure to tell her you were asking after her."

"You just keep 'em safe, Mr Potter. S'all I ask. Far as I'm concerned, no news is good news." He straightened up and cleared his throat. "Well, I'll leave you two to yer drinks, then, shall I?"

"Wait," Sirius said, reaching into his pocket for some coins.

"Nay, lad. This one's on the house. And no griping or leaving it on the table. M'not taking coin from you tonight. Now, drink up and get y'going."

"Ta, Tom. You're a good man."

"Aye, and don't you forget it, Mr Black," he said with a toothless grin. "Especially when all this is over and I charge y'double," he added over his shoulder and ambled back to the bar.

"Stubborn as a rock, that one," James said. "Not nearly as pig-headed and thick as you, though. And he's much better looking, too."

"Mmmm," Sirius mumbled, not looking up from fiddling with his glass.

"All right. That does it," James said, thumping his glass down and sloshing whisky over the side. "Out with it."

"S'nothing, all right? I just… Like I said. Don't wanna go home just yet is all," Sirius said, shrugging. He leaned forward, finger tapping the rim of his glass. "So, did you find out anything?"

James sighed. "You've not heard a thing I've said, have you? Merlin, Pads. I told you already, no. Thought I saw the elder Lestrange, looked like him under the hood, but I couldn't hear anything. Creepy lot in there. Almost surprised the MLE hasn't raided the place."

"They have. Twice in the last month, Moody told me. Took a few people in for questioning, but let 'em go. No evidence. Crouch nearly went insane when he heard." He leaned back and took another gulp of whisky.

"M'not surprised," James said. "He's a bit of a bastard."

"A bit?"

"Fair point. So… when's Remus back then?"

Sirius stared into his drink. "Dunno. He doesn't tell me, well, anything, really. He said he'd be gone about a week. S'been eight days today. Maybe tomorrow then."

"Full moon's Sunday night," James murmured. "Dumbledore wouldn't keep him away for that, would he?"

"No." He took another swallow and frowned. Remus was already back, but he couldn't tell James that. Well, he could. And he ought to; they had no secrets – well, almost no secrets, between them. Nothing important anyway. And James, for all his daft schemes, was far too shrewd, and he already knew something was bothering him.

"Anyway, I meant to tell you earlier, but I don't think I'll be able to make it this month. The baby and all. I can't leave her alone all night in case she goes into labour, and Alice is just as far along. I can't foist her off on them again this month."

Sirius waved his hand casually, and finished off his whiskey in one big gulp. "No worries," he rasped. "Of course you can't. Remus'll understand."

"I hate to miss it. Can't be helped though. And if I'm not there, Wormtail probably won't go either. Not that he'd be much good."

"Wouldn't want him clinging to my back, anyway. Bastard's got sharp claws. You gonna finish that?" he asked, pointing to James' nearly-full glass.

"Nah. S'all yours. You probably need it more than I do anyway."

Sirius grunted and reached for the glass, gulping down half its contents. He wondered if Remus would be home when he got there, wondered if he should say anything about tonight. _Probably wouldn't even get the chance,_ he thought, remembering the night before Remus had left one week earlier. He'd been sore for two days after.

He nodded along while James made idle chatter, talking about Lily and their latest argument over proper wizarding baby names, but he was only half listening, and James knew it as well. He'd hoped the whisky might ease the tightness in his belly, but so far it had only made it worse. _Still,_ he thought, taking another swallow, _no sense in wasting good whisky._

*~*

  
The flat was dark when he Apparated home.

"Remus?" he called out. "You home?" Silence answered him.

He lit his wand and shined it over by the door. No scruffy brown shoes on the floor or cloak on the peg. He sighed and kicked off his shoes, sending them flying haphazardly against the wall. He lit the lamp by the sofa and sat down, propping his socked feet on the coffee table and leaning back into the cushions. The whisky was finally starting to numb his fingers and toes, and he determined he could do with some more.

He summoned a bottle from the kitchen and contemplated a glass. Deciding that he couldn't be bothered, he opened the bottle and took a healthy swig.

"Fuck," he uttered into the empty flat, nearly expecting to hear an echo, and deciding that maybe he _had_ had too much to drink already. He put the bottle down on the table, got up and went into the bedroom, turning on the light as he entered. He stripped off his filthy t-shirt and tossed it into the corner with the other dirty laundry and pulled a clean shirt from the drawer. It was one of Remus'.

"Oh, bugger this," he exclaimed out loud and tossed the shirt back in the drawer unfolded, closing it sharply with his hip. He opened the top drawer instead and pulled out a pair of boxers, and quickly changed out of his jeans, adding them to the growing pile in the corner. As he turned to leave, his foot kicked at something sticking out from under the bed and he leaned down and picked it up. He grunted at the box in his hands and nearly slid it back underneath, but on second thought decided to bring it with him back into the living room.

He sat down on the sofa again, box in his lap, and reached once again for the bottle of whisky, taking another large swallow before removing the lid and peering inside. He'd already known what was inside the box; it wasn't a secret, only he'd never actually bothered to look before. He hadn't needed to since they kept a couple of the more commonly used items in the night table beside the bed anyway.

Inside were the rest of the toys and…appliances that now represented Remus' growing hobby and defined their sex life. He pawed through the contents, frowning. There were various sized dildos and plugs, both vibrating and non-, cock rings, manacles, paddles and straps, gags, flavoured lube, and a few things he didn't recognize or know the function of, and wasn't exactly sure he wanted to.

It wasn't as if he didn't enjoy it. At least, most of the time.

Remus and his insatiable libido had been more than a surprise, and a pleasant one at that.

He closed his eyes and smiled, remembering how astonished he'd been all throughout their Seventh Year. He'd already known Remus for the clever, mischievous bugger that he was, despite most of their school mates and professors believing he was little more than a quiet, swotty Prefect with ill-behaved friends, but somehow he hadn't been quite prepared. Once they'd progressed past their awkward schoolboy fumbling and Remus' more amorous and aggressive nature began to really surface, Sirius happily reaped the benefits of this good fortune.

And it had been fantastic. It still was. Remus loved the challenge, the thrill of the chase, and Sirius not only allowed himself to be captured, but revelled in it. The hunter and his willing prey; testing the boundaries, seeing just how far he could go. It was such a contrast to the personalities they showed to the rest of the world, and that alone made it all the more enticing.

But something inside of him was changing. He'd been feeling it for a while now, months even. He'd go to bed at night, occasionally sore, but sleepy and well sated with the euphoria of post-orgasmic bliss, Remus' warm body beside him. Yet in the moments before he'd drift off to sleep, a finger of…something, would creep into his mind, poking and prodding and shaping his dreams, cautioning that something somewhere was out of place, askew; something he wasn't even aware that he needed or even wanted was missing.

He teased James often about his normal, boring sex life, how he had sacrificed his masculinity by succumbing to the girly aspects of relationships. Real men never cuddled, or at least they never called it that by name. They just got off, and often.

But he'd watched James very closely over the years, seen him grow from a fat-headed immature git into a loving, caring boyfriend and husband, and now, soon-to-be father, and if he was honest with himself, there was much to be envied in that. He saw the gentle, intimate touches between James and Lily when they thought no one was looking, the way they'd smile, eyes only for each other, as if that single glance held all the secrets of the universe, and it was far more than physical desire that sustained them.

Oh, he loved Remus and knew that Remus loved him in return. Not that they spoke much of such things, but he couldn't imagine spending his life with anyone else, and he knew full well that their path involved a different journey from the one James and Lily had taken. It wasn't the notions of marriage and children that had him envious of his best friend, or even love itself.

Remus didn't look at him the way James looked at Lily. Had he ever? Maybe he had once, and in his ignorance he just hadn't noticed. He'd never really been attuned to that sort of thing. Only now that he was, the looks he received were ones of desire, yes, always desire, but more… hungry, needful, lust-filled, even desperate. Their touches were rarely gentle anymore, too often rough and demanding; there was more violence than tenderness in their kisses.

He took another swallow from the bottle and tossed the box aside, disgusted. Toys and games were fun, exciting even, but that's all it ever seemed to be. He himself had simply become another toy in Remus' collection.

"Fuck me!" he said aloud to the empty flat. "I'm a bloody buggering big girl's blouse! And I'm also talking to myself. Right. Brilliant. Completely lost my mind. Fuck. Mother would be so proud. Way to go, Black," he added, hoisting the bottle in a toast to himself and taking another swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"In for a sickle. Though I suppose if I want to have an intelligent conversation, who better to talk to, yeah? Ha bloody ha. Now there's a laugh. Such wit, Black. Such stellar wit. Ha ha! Stellar! You're a bloody genius, you are. Oh fuck," he gasped, feeling a sob rising in his throat.

He cleared his throat and scowled down at the bottle in his hand, leaning forward and plunking it down on the table. "Had enough of you," he said, sighing and leaning back again.

He covered his face with his hands. "Goddamn it, Remus!" he cried. "What the fucking hell were you _doing_ there? And where the fuck are you now?" He dropped his hands to his lap and closed his eyes, his stomach tight and his throat raw from more than just the whisky.

He so badly wanted – no, needed an answer. But even the little sarcastic voice in his head was silent. He was afraid of what the answer might be. Afraid that Remus wouldn't, or couldn't answer – not with any reply that he wanted to hear, and for that alone, he knew he could never ask.

He leaned his head down onto the armrest and curled himself up, elbows and knees bent and tucked, eyes still closed. He wouldn't cry, he told himself, because he never cried. Not when his father had beat him for his insolence or his mother hexed him for his proud defiance, not when he ran away at sixteen, not when he'd nearly got Remus killed because he'd been a stupid prick, not when his father died last year, and not even when his brother had been killed just this past Christmas.

He fell into an uneasy sleep, images of Regulus once again flashing through his mind, haunting his dreams; Regulus lying on the ground, grey eyes blank, staring unseeing at a tall hooded figure swathed in shadows standing over him. A figure with dark eyes, brown hair and long pale fingers, gazing up at the haloed blood-red full moon above, watching eagerly as the sphere twisted and warped and elongated into an iridescent green skull…

**

"Padfoot!"

"Huh? Wha? Whizzit?"

He sat up abruptly, reaching vainly for his wand, heart racing, blinking in the bright light from the lamp.

"It's me," Remus said. "What are you doing sleeping out here? Ah, I see," he added, noticing the half-empty bottle of firewhisky on the table. "That sort of night was it?"

Sirius continued to blink, his mind still quite foggy from drink. Christ, how much had he drunk?

Remus sat down beside him on the couch and jumped up, startled. He looked down and picked up the box, a wicked smile spreading over his face when he recognized it.

"Missed me, did you?"

"Huh?" Sirius shook his head trying to shake off his fatigue and winced. He rested his elbows on his knees, rubbed his temples and tried to remember what Remus had asked of him. "Oh. Yeah. S'pose I did."

"Glad to hear it. Missed you, too," Remus said, checking the couch for stray objects before sitting down once again.

"Oh, er, good. Right."

Remus leaned closer and nuzzled against Sirius' collarbone. "You're rather sweet when you're muzzy like– Christ, Padfoot," he exclaimed, sitting up. "You smell like a rubbish heap! Just what have you been up to? Slumming with Mundungus or did you trip and fall into a bin?"

"S'out with Prongs. We were… Oh! We, er," he trailed off, not daring to mention the foul alley or the pub in Knockturn.

"If he came home smelling like you, Lily will have hexed his bollocks off."

Sirius grunted. "The Leaky. He didn't." He rubbed his eyes and scrubbed his hands through his hair. "Think I, er, had an accident."

Remus shook his head and clucked his tongue. "I'm sure I don't want to know. No wonder you're out here on the couch. But you're home safe. That's all that matters."

"Mmmm," Sirius said noncommittally. "So…"

Remus raised his eyebrows.

"How was… I mean," Sirius shrugged his shoulders, his stomach slightly queasy. "Right. I know. We don't talk about it. I just…" He scowled at Remus' blank expression. "Fine."

"Look, Sirius. I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I hated being away. And I'm sorry I got back later than expected. Things were…" he trailed off, sighing. "I know you worry, I worry about you as well, but I couldn't…" He shrugged.

"I need to take a piss," Sirius said, getting up and walking to the loo. He closed the door behind him, something he rarely did, and sighed. He looked in the mirror, scowling at his bloodshot eyes in the reflection, and moved to the toilet to piss. All manner of things were flitting through his mind now that he was awake. _Things were what? You couldn't what?_ The questions lay between them like a chasm, unasked and unanswered. A cold finger of doubt crept up his spine and he shuddered.

_There's a bloody good explanation. I know there is. Fucking hell, it's_ Remus_!_ he argued with himself. _We've lived together for ten years, shared a bed for three. Nobody knows him better than I do. Not even his own bloody mother!_

"Sirius?"

"Yeah."

"Can I come in?"

"S'unlocked."

Remus opened the door and peered inside. "Considering we don't have a lock on the door and your wand is out on the table, I should hope so. You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine," he said, flushing the toilet and turning on the tap in the sink.

"I wanted to have a shower. I could do with a wash. You could do with one as well," Remus said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, okay." He turned off the sink tap, leaned over and reached down to turn on the shower, stripped off his boxers and stepped into the tub.

Remus shed his own clothes and followed, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

"Here," Sirius said, stepping around him while soaping his chest and belly, allowing Remus to stand under the spray. He watched as Remus closed his eyes and ducked his head under the water, studying his body, looking for hints, clues. His shoulders were stiff and tense, and there was a small scratch on his arm, but otherwise nothing. He sighed, stepped closer, and began washing Remus' back.

Remus rolled his shoulders backwards and relaxed, exhaling loudly. "Thanks, Pads."

"Mmhmm," Sirius replied, reaching around his chest and continuing his ministrations. When he was finished, Remus took the soap from his hand and washed him in return, hands gentle, and they took it in turns to step under the spray to rinse.

Remus turned off the tap and turned to face him. He took Sirius' hand in his, raising it to his lips, and kissed his knuckles. He offered a small smile, the right side of his mouth quirking upward, and Sirius relented, leaning in to kiss him.

"Mmmm. You taste like whisky," Remus said, his voice low and throaty. "I could quite possibly get pissed just licking your mouth.”

Sirius felt his cock twitch. Damn. Well, it _had_ been more than a week. "Care to test that theory?"

"I think that could be arranged, yes. Should dry off first," Remus said, handing him a towel, and pulling him close to kiss him again, hungrily.

They dried off quickly, if awkwardly, leaving their dirty clothing and damp towels on the floor of the bath and, despite stopping to kiss and grope one another every second step, managed to stumble into bedroom.

They crawled onto the bed, and Remus climbed behind him, licking and sucking on the back of his neck hard enough to leave several marks. He rubbed his cock against Sirius' arse, fingers pinching and twisting at his nipples, firmly but not roughly. It felt bloody wonderful, Remus' warmth against his back, his long-fingered hands touching him, skin on skin. It felt real and immediate… comforting. Loving. Sirius reached down and stroked his own cock, moaning softly.

"Need to touch you," Remus said, and his hand moved lower, stroking Sirius' belly, his hipbones, circling lower still. "Need to– oh, no you don't," he admonished, pushing Sirius' hand away. "You've been doing that all week, haven't you? Not tonight. Tonight you belong to me, Sirius Black. Your cock, your arse, they're mine. All mine," he murmured, scraping his teeth across the back of Sirius' neck.

Sirius shivered as he felt Remus' teeth clamp down on the nape, leaving deep indentations, but not biting sharply enough to break the skin, soft wet tongue licking and soothing. Remus pushed him over onto his belly and straddled his back, kissing his shoulder blades, licking down his spine, and Sirius squirmed, grinding his cock into the sheets.

Remus slid down his body, stilling his hips. "No!" he said sharply, and Sirius started, held his breath. "You don't come until I say."

He exhaled slowly and felt Remus nuzzling between his arse cheeks, biting him roughly and then kissing the sting away. He licked up the crease and Sirius felt him crawl back up, running his hands over his arms and stretching them out over his head. He nudged him over a bit, body facing diagonally toward the post in the corner.

There was a silk scarf tied to the bedpost there, and Sirius watched, slightly apprehensive and…disappointed, as Remus tugged it, looped it around his wrists and pulled the slip knot tight.

"Remus," he said, "I–"

"Shhh," Remus whispered, kissing Sirius to shush him. "It's only a slip knot. You look so fucking gorgeous like this. Love seeing you. Want to touch you. Too long away. Need you, need to feel you," he said, running his hands over Sirius' back and shoulders.

"Yeah," Sirius whispered, clenching his arse and trying not to grind into the bedding below him. "S'nice."

Remus lay on top of him, his weight warm and heavy, hipbones sharp, rubbing himself against him like a cat, cheek stubble rough and scratchy against his shoulder.

"Need you," Remus whispered in his ear, his voice sounding…anxious. "Need to fuck you."

"Mmmm," Sirius rumbled. He wanted that, too. Truth was, despite his teasing with James earlier, Sirius never used any of their various 'toys' when Remus was away. Not anymore. At first he'd decided he simply couldn't be bothered. Wanking was easy and less complicated, and got the job done quickly. It wasn't until recently that he realized there was more to it.

Magic – charms, and spells of all sorts – could fill the empty spaces, make use of the toys in ways the Muggles never dreamed, a richer experience at the flick of a wand, but when the fantasy was over and he opened his eyes, the realization that he was alone was daunting. He not only preferred the real thing to substitutes, but it was the intimacy, the touching, which he craved most. Listening to all the noises and sounds Remus made – sounds of pleasure, enjoyment, desire – the gasps and groans, the way he loved to talk and tell him all of the filthy things he wanted to do to him. The Remus that belonged only to him, the man no one else ever got to see. So many hidden facets to that personality…

That thought jolted him from his reverie and he sat up pushing himself up onto his elbows, turning his head to the side. Remus had rolled off him, he realized, and was rummaging in the top drawer of the night table. He returned a moment later wearing a triumphant grin.

"Shhh," Remus whispered, settling beside him, a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing, urging him to lie down. He spied the familiar tube and relaxed, closing his eyes, felt Remus' hands on his back, his thighs, his arse.

A brief touch of cool slickness, and he settled down, his body relaxing further, welcoming the intrusion after the week-long absence. He sighed happily and rubbed his cheek against the sheets, wriggling and pushing gently back onto Remus' finger.

Remus chuckled. "Like it, do you? Oh, yes, you do. So fucking beautiful. You want another one, don't you?"

"Mmmm, fuck yeah," Sirius moaned, and Remus laughed again and complied. He felt the initial burn and pushed back. Remus sped up his pace and the slick slap and slide of his fingers mingled with Sirius' breathy panting. "Fuck, good Moony. More."

"Yes," Remus hissed, and he was pushing in a third, twisting his fingers, pressing them deeper.

Laying flat on his belly with his legs spread wide, Sirius thrust his hips, struggling for better leverage. "On your knees," Remus' voice buzzed in his ear, and he pulled himself up with a whimper, the motion sending Remus' fingers even deeper.

"Yes, just like that Sirius, open your legs for me, wider, yes, oh yes, you feel so good, c'mon, fuck my hand."

Sirius groaned, rocking himself on Remus' fingers, anticipating the moment when Remus would replace his fingers with his cock. "Fuck me, Moony," he gasped. "Need you. Now. Right now."

He felt Remus rest his cheek against his hip, felt his lips and the scratch of stubble on his sensitive skin, a stark contrast.

"Oh, Sirius," he murmured. "Do you remember? The first time you let me touch you. The first time you sucked my cock, the first time you let me fuck you. You were always so beautiful, so willing, reckless."

Sirius was grinding back onto his fingers, ready, waiting, and was startled when he felt Remus push in a fourth finger. He grunted at the initial pain, sucking in his breath and slowing his pace, feeling the cool slickness of lubricant against the burn as his muscles stretched further to accommodate the new girth.

Remus didn't slow his pace, fingers stretching and pumping. "Fuck, yes. That's it, yes. You can take it, open for me, just like that. So tight. So fucking tight. Want to crawl inside you, feels so good. You'll love this, I promise. Won't hurt but a minute, so good, gorgeous," Remus crooned, twisting his fingers in a circular motion while still fucking him hard and rough. "Just a little more."

Sirius' breath was coming in gasps, sharp bursts of pleasuring pain with every twist, every thrust as he rocked himself slowly on Remus' fingers. He felt so full, overwhelmed, like he would rupture at any moment, unsure of how much more his body could take. When he became aware of a fifth finger prodding at his entrance, he stiffened and stilled.

"Moony?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Just a little more, yes, almost there," Remus continued, oblivious. "Want to reach inside you. Fuck you with my whole hand."

"Moony," Sirius said louder, crawling forward, trying to drag himself away from Remus' grasp, his stomach clenching as a wave of panic stole over him. "Remus, stop."

"Need you, Sirius," he said, his hand still thrusting, twisting and stretching, straining to press deeper and deeper, his other hand grasping Sirius' hip tightly, trying to hold him still. "Don't want to stop. Just relax. I promise it'll feel so good."

"Remus!" Sirius yelled, struggling to pull away, feeling slightly dizzy, his heart racing, but Remus still held him, following him as he moved.

"Want to be inside you. All the way inside. Don't–"

Sirius twisted his body from Remus' grasp and pulled away roughly, wincing in pain. He flipped himself over, sat down hard and winced again as he landed firmly on his bottom, his arms awkward, twisted to his side, still tied to the bedpost. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were wide, wild.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sirius shouted. He was staring at Remus and trying to wriggle his wrists and loosen the knot on the scarf.

Remus simply stared back it him, his mouth open in a small 'o'.

"What the fuck were you trying to do? You bastard! I fucking said stop. It's not – Christ! Would you take this fucking thing off me?" he demanded, shifting his body around and holding his hands out to Remus.

Remus reached out to loosen the knot and Sirius flinched when he touched his wrist.

"Fuck," Remus said softly, taking hold of Sirius' wrists and working at the knot. "M'sorry," he murmured, and Sirius noticed that Remus' hands were shaking slightly as he fumbled with the scarf.

"I just wanted… I needed…" The knot came free and Remus' voice trailed off. He shrugged his shoulders, bowed his head and dropped his hands listlessly to his knees. "Fuck. I don't know."

Sirius sat and watched him, his knees drawn up against his chest, rubbing his wrists and rocking slowly. There were so many things he wanted to do, to say; he wanted to shout some more, wanted to grip Remus by his shoulders and shake him, wanted to rant and rave and throw things about the room, smash and shatter them against the wall. And he wanted to curl up into a ball and sob himself to sleep.

He did none of these things, only sat and stared in silence, his earlier arousal forgotten.

Remus looked up at him then, his eyes partially hidden by his fringe. "I honestly don't know what to say. I didn't expect…"

"Yeah," Sirius said, shrugging.

"It's…" Remus brushed his hair back from his eyes and sat up straighter. "I am sorry. I didn't think… Yes, well, and how's that for irony, yeah?" he asked, his lips twitching in an attempt at a smile.

"Hmph," Sirius replied, grudgingly. "S'pose I've done my share of not thinking over the years."

"Just a bit," Remus replied, still cautious.

"S'just… what's happening to us, Moony? All the games. Yeah, it's great, 'course I like it. But sometimes… Fuck. I don't know either." He shrugged and rested his forehead on his knees.

He heard the sheets rustling and felt a tentative hand on his head. He sighed and shifted a bit closer while Remus ran his hand gently through his hair.

"Some days," Remus began and halted, cleared his throat. "Some days, I think the whole world could simply disappear and die, and me along with it, and I wouldn't care. It all seems so… so futile."

Sirius closed his eyes as Remus continued to stroke his hair. "And then I come home and I see you here – and it still amazes me, you know. Even after all this time.

"But I see you, and I… I touch you, and I get to love you. And that's my hope. It's what sustains me. And I know it sounds daft. But every time we come home, alive and safe…"

His hand stilled and Sirius raised his head and looked at him.

Remus shrugged. "Here, in the bedroom. With you. This is where I live. Everywhere else… Everywhere else I simply exist."

Sirius shook his head slowly and yawned.

"Tired?" Remus asked.

Sirius grunted in reply.

"Come here," Remus said. "Lie down."

He shifted over, wincing slightly as he moved over a wrinkle in the blanket.

"Damn," Remus grimaced. "I'm sorry."

"S'ok," he said lying down on his side

Remus tugged the blanket free and covered them both, curling on his side to face Sirius.

They lay there, not speaking, just watching each other's faces and breathing, which suited him just fine. He didn't know what to think, what to make of Remus' words and actions, his secrets, or how to reconcile them.

After a while, he felt Remus' finger brush against his hip. He quirked his lip and Remus shrugged, a tentative smile playing across his features.

"Randy bastard," Sirius murmured.

Remus laughed, and moved his hand lower. Sirius' cock responded immediately to his touch, and Remus laughed again.

"Now who's the randy bastard?"

"Shut it, you," Sirius replied, smacking him lightly on his belly. He reached down and grasped Remus' still-hard cock and curled his fingers around it, running them lightly up and down the length, circling his thumb around the tip and sliding it back down the underside in a slow steady rhythm.

Remus leaned in to kiss him and he closed his eyes, willing away all of his uncertainties, concentrating on the feel of Remus' fingers on him, the smooth warm skin of Remus' cock beneath his own fingers, Remus' breath gentle on his face.

They did not speak, and for once words were not needed; nothing existed beyond their soft gasps and intermittent kisses, the slick glide of flesh on flesh as they brought each other off, searching for solace in each other's touch, if only for a moment.

Afterwards, Sirius stretched, cat-like, and rolled onto his back, wincing as he was still sore from earlier. He turned onto his other side, facing away from Remus, but it was too late; the calm circle of quiet had broken and the world rushed back in with a loud roar.

Remus spooned up behind him, put his arm across Sirius' hip and pulled him close. Sirius thought he heard Remus mumble another apology against his neck, voice muffled and barely audible. Or perhaps it had only been in his head. He wasn't quite sure of anything right now.

"Sirius?" Remus murmured, nuzzling the back of his neck.

"Mmm?"

"I do love you."

"I know, Moony," Sirius replied, a bit sadly. And he did know.

He lay unmoving, listening as Remus' breathing slowed, steadied, his arm limp where it lay across Sirius' hip, and the room growing brighter as the sun rose higher in the sky. He did not sleep.


End file.
